


Men of Legend: The Butterfly Effect

by hells_half_acre



Series: Men of Legend [2]
Category: Merlin (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Implied Relationships, Magic Revealed, Possibly Pre-Slash, Sam and Dean only mentioned, not actually about Supernatural at all, possible slash relationships are merthur and/or gwaine/merlin, possibly polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 11:38:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7506826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hells_half_acre/pseuds/hells_half_acre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haunted by Sam and Dean's parting words of advice, Merlin makes a decision that could change his and Arthur's destiny and friendship forever.</p><p>(Note: Sam and Dean are only referenced and do not appear, so the story can be read as simply a magic reveal story - the events you need to know are limited and explained, so you don't even really need to read the first story in the series.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gwaine

**Author's Note:**

> Hi Everyone! This isn't so much a sequel, as a very long epilogue, and or possibly a very long prologue wot a possible sequel in the future. 
> 
> If you DON'T like canon-divergence, or you want to keep the open and ambiguous ending of the first story, don't read this! This is MY take on what happens next. If you like to build your own, just ignore me.
> 
> I'll repeat for the third time: This is very much just a Merlin story. Sam and Dean are referenced, but do not appear at all. 
> 
> Originally, I was going to weave this into a longer sequel as flashbacks, but it was making the possible longer sequel both unwieldy to write, and, I think, annoying to read. So, I made the decision to extract it again and post it on its own. Hopefully you don't mind!

**GWAINE**

It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining, the apples were ripe. The tavern was going to have a traveling band of musicians play that night, which meant there would be dancing. The patrols had all reported peace throughout the kingdom and Arthur had already come back from his latest hunting trip, so he wasn’t about to order them all to ready their horses for another sojourn out in the woods.

Tonight, Gwaine was going to have a good time and damn anyone who expected him to be out of bed in the morning. 

Or so he thought.

The moment Merlin approached him in the courtyard, Gwaine felt his stomach drop. Oh, Merlin was smiling and for all the world, looked to be carefree, but Gwaine knew his friend better than that. The smile didn’t reach his eyes  - and his eyes made Gwaine’s blood run cold.

“Gwaine, could you do me a favour?” Merlin asked, never wavering from the smile.

“Of course,” Gwaine answered, and he smiled back, because if that was the game they were playing, then he would play along. He looked around briefly to see if anyone was watching - perhaps this show was for someone else - but he couldn’t see anybody within earshot and no one seemed to be paying them any attention.

“I was wondering, if you could ready my horse for me tonight,” Merlin said. “Then bring it to the courtyard and… uh… if you could just wait there for a bit, I’d appreciate it.”

Gwaine paused and studied Merlin’s face. He was still smiling, but the fear was still in his eyes, and now it seemed to have been joined by nervousness. Gwaine realized that he had never in his life known Merlin to be afraid - no, that wasn’t true, he’d seen him afraid, but only afraid for Arthur’s well-being.

“What’s going on?” Gwaine asked. “Should I ready Arthur’s horse as well… or my own?”

Merlin smile twitched into something bittersweet for only a moment. “No, just mine - I’m just going to pick herbs tonight for Gaius. Special ones - have to be picked at midnight.” Gwaine could actually see Merlin come to a thought, and then he continued quickly. “Actually, now that you mention it, since Arthur won’t be coming with me - could you use his saddle on my horse. I know it’s not… uh, proper, for a servant to use the King’s saddle, but between you and me, I think it has a bit more padding.”

Gwaine laughed genuinely and winked. “It’ll be a secret between us, my friend. But you shouldn’t go riding alone at night, Merlin,” Gwaine pressed on. “I’ll come with you.”

“Don’t trouble yourself,” Merlin replied. “I won’t be going far - it’s just, erm, I don’t have time to ready my horse, what with attending Arthur and all, and he said… he said I could, er, with the new position he gave me a few weeks ago, when Dean and Sam were here - remember? He said I could ask people to help with my chores, erm… I know, I know he meant stablehands and...not… not knights, but… the stablehands…they all have families and I don’t want to keep them so late.”

“Fair enough,” Gwaine conceded, if only to stop Merlin’s rambling excuse. “I suppose Arwel’s wife did just give birth not two months ago, I’m sure she’d be happy to have her husband home at a decent hour.”

“Exactly,” Merlin’s smile widened, obviously relieved.

“I had grand plans for the tavern, Merlin,” Gwaine complained. “But, I suppose it will still be open once I see you off.”

“I’ll be sure not to be late,” Merlin nodded, his smile once again turning strained. Gwaine kept his own false cheer plastered on his face, while his mind racing. Merlin was lying. “Thanks so much, Gwaine, you’re a true friend.”

“Anytime,” Gwaine replied, as seriously as he could, while still keeping the cheer in his voice.

“Wish me luck then,” Merlin said as he turned to go. 

As parting words, they didn’t make sense from their conversation, but Gwaine replied sincerely. “Good luck, Merlin.”

He watched Merlin walk away for a moment, trying not to feel as though it was the last time he’d see his friend… but that’s exactly what it felt like, and a heavy weight of dread settled in Gwaine’s stomach. He changed his course and headed back to his rooms. He needed time to think. No, he changed course again and headed for the tavern - this was the sort of thinking best done with a mug of ale.

The thoughts swirled in his head, as he walked through town, entered the tavern, sat down, and ordered his ale. He barely paid any mind to the bar-keeper or anyone else in tavern for that matter. Was he overreacting? Surely, it must just be as Merlin said - a simple errand and some consideration to the recently child-afflicted stablehand... but Merlin always readied his own horse and the stable was closer to the forest than the courtyard. So, the simplest answer was that Merlin wanted to leave on his errand as quickly as possible, rather than take the extra few minutes to walk to the stable and ready his horse.

Why? What was the rush? For herbs? The herbs had to be a lie - though, Gwaine had a memory of Gauis telling Arthur about Merlin running errands for him at night in the past. It was, they had assumed, part of the reason that Merlin had been suffering from exhaustion and therefore so slow to recover from the vampire attack over a month ago. Gwaine sighed, he thought of how the mercenary, Dean, had sat next to him in that very bar and discussed Merlin like he knew something that Gwaine didn’t. Gwaine felt the exact same way now, only there was no target for his questions other than Merlin himself - and Gwaine knew Merlin well enough to know he’d be getting no answers there.

Gwaine glanced at his ale and then at the empty stool where Dean had sat. 

“What did you know then?” Gwaine muttered. 

He closed his eyes and thought back. Dean had asked him where his loyalties lay, the conversation had haunted Gwaine for some time. If he had to choose between his spoken oath to Arthur, or his unspoken oath to Merlin… but the question had been ridiculous, because there was no one more loyal than Merlin to Arthur and Arthur to Merlin. Dean had only been concerned because it was obvious that Merlin had been overworked at the time.

But no, that wasn’t right either, because Dean hadn’t asked Gwaine what he would do if Merlin was mistreated or abused in some manner. Dean had asked him what he would do if Arthur ordered Merlin’s execution.

Gwaine felt the icy hand of fear grip his heart. 

_ “You make it sound like you know something I don’t” _

_ “...call it a hunch.” _

Merlin had asked Gwaine to ready a horse. He had asked Gwaine to bring it to the courtyard. He had asked Gwaine to use Arthur’s saddle. If the King called for his horse after Merlin’s horse had already been prepared and taken away, the stablehands would waste time trying to find a saddle that wasn’t there. Merlin had asked the horse to be waiting in the courtyard, because he didn’t want to take the time to walk to the stable…

No, Gwaine thought. It wasn’t possible. The only offenses that warranted execution were murder, treachery, and magic - and Merlin was incapable of the first, too loyal for the second, and…

Gwaine paid for his ale in a blind rush, as he all but ran out of the tavern. Dean had known something about Merlin - how had he known? 

_ “I barely know the King and I only met Merlin this morning,”  _ he had said. Dean - a mercenary with an accent that Gwaine had never heard before, trained since birth to fight monsters that were summoned by a sorcerer from a different realm - how many possible times could that have happened? How did Dean build up the skill and knowledge? It didn’t make sense unless…

Gwaine came to a stop and leaned against a wall, steadying his breath as the world seemed to tilt around him. He was back in the courtyard, now staring up at what he knew to be the windows of Arthur’s bedroom. Merlin would be able to see Gwaine and the horse in the courtyard that evening. When Merlin helped prepare the King for bed, he’d be able to look down and know that Gwaine had kept his word, that the horse was there, that it held Arthur’s saddle.

“Gwaine?” a soft voice spoke, as a familiar figure approached him. “Are you alright?”

“Percival,” Gwaine said, turning to look at his friend. “I need a favour.”

*

That evening, Gwaine sat on the step to the palace holding the reigns of a horse. Merlin’s horse was well trained - one of their best horses, though Gwaine doubted Merlin knew that - and the horse probably wouldn’t wander if Gwaine let go of the rains, but Gwaine needed it to stay exactly where it was, and he needed Merlin to see that he had fulfilled his promise.

The sun had set, the evening meal long over, and all around him in the castle, Gwaine could see the lamp glow in the windows disappear one by one, as people either blew out their candles or closed their curtains. His eyes, though,  were fixed on the shiny buckle at the horse’s shoulder. He didn’t dare turn and look himself, he didn’t want to make Merlin suspicious - but there, in the shiny buckle of Arthur’s saddle, he could see the glow from the royal bed chamber. 

It wasn’t a clear reflection, but it was enough to see the shadow pause in the window just before the heavy drapes were drawn. Gwaine waited only a brief moment, before he stood and turned beckoned into the darkness. 

Percival came forward slowly leading a second horse out of the darkness. 

“It was just as you said,” Percival reported. “He came to the window, looked down at you, and then closed the curtains.”

Gwaine nodded, passing over the reigns of Merlin’s horse to his fellow knight, for now at least. Merlin’s horse seemed happy to no longer be held in one position, and it shifted on it’s feet and greeted Gwaine’s horse. 

“Will you really not tell me what’s going on?” Percival continued.

“Just, wait here until either I or Merlin tell you otherwise,” Gwaine replied. “Promise me that.”

“Of course,” Percival replied. “Gwaine-”

“It’s for Merlin,” Gwaine repeated, which was all he had told Percival earlier too. And with that, Gwaine hurried into the palace. He knew Percival had questions. Gwaine’s horse had its saddlebag packed. Merlin’s did not, because Merlin hadn’t instructed Gwaine to do so, so Gwaine had packed extra in his own, just in case.

He tried to walk casually whenever guards were about, but otherwise, he ran through the halls. There were no guards outside Arthur’s door - there wouldn’t be unless the court was worried about a threat to the King. Gwaine could see the firelight flickering beneath the door frame. He could hear muffled voices from within - the King, possibly the Queen, most definitely Merlin. 

His heart was pounding in his chest, but he didn’t dare put his ear to the door. Instead, he crouched a few paces down the corridor, where he could see the light under the door, he could hear the cadence of speech, if not the words, and he waited. He felt his hand going to his sword hilt by reflex, the feeling of his muscles coiling, anticipating a sudden need to move, to run, to act. 

It seemed an age. At times, the voices rose, and Gwaine tensed, half leaving his position, his sword half-drawn, but then the voices would quiet again, and Gwaine would force himself to relax, his eyes fixed on the firelight under the door, the cadence of the voices - the intermittent soft tread of feet on the floor.

Finally, the voices quieted, became less frequent, softer. Gwaine heard the bed creak. The firelight coming from under the door dimmed, as Merlin - please let it be Merlin - blew out the candles and snuffed the lamps. 

Gwaine straightened, trying to appear relaxed. He purposefully removed his hand from his sword hilt, and leaned casually against the wall. 

The door open and Merlin stepped out, Gwaine held his breath. Merlin didn’t even look into the hallway, he faced Arthur’s room as he closed the door, and then he stood and leaned his head against the door. Gwaine waited. The silence was suddenly a sacred thing.

When Merlin stepped back from the door and turned to the hallway, he startled at the sight of Gwaine. There was no avoiding it. Gwaine still felt bad. Merlin’s eyes were red-rimmed, his pale cheeks blotchy.

“Will you be needing the horse?” Gwaine whispered.

Merlin took a deep breath. “No, I don’t think I will be. I think… I think I’ll just go to bed.” Merlin smiled, a soft small smile, but it was real, and that was all Gwaine could hope for. “I’m sorry,” Merlin continued. “I made you wait so long for nothing.”

“Don’t be,” Gwaine replied, he didn’t smile. “I’m glad of it.”

Gwaine motioned down the hallway and Merlin stepped forward, falling into step beside Gwaine, as he turned and led them back through the palace. The silence was thick. Gwaine did not mention Merlin’s small sniffles. Merlin did not question what Gwaine had been doing in the corridor rather than the courtyard.

When they exited into the night air, Merlin took a sharp breath, as Percival stood up from the steps and turned to greet them - the reigns of their two horses held loosely in one large hand. 

“We won’t be needing the horses after all, Percival,” Gwaine said. “Could you take them back to the stables. I’ll join you in a minute to help unsaddle them.”

“Is everything alright?” Percival asked, looking at Merlin, who was scrubbing fresh tears off his cheeks.

Merlin nodded.

“If you’re certain...” Percival replied. 

Merlin nodded again. “Yes, Percival, thank you. I’m sorry about the wait.”

Percival smiled. “Anything for you, Merlin.” And then he turned and led the horses back across the cobblestone. 

Gently putting his hand on Merlin’s arm, he guided him down the steps from the palace. Merlin was still watching the horses leave, biting his lip and looking more bewildered then he had any right to be. Making a quick decision, Gwaine halted Merlin before he reached the bottom of the stairs. Quickly, Gwaine moved down two steps so that he could stand in front of Merlin and look up at him. He reached out and grasped Merlin’s hand, and held it tightly. 

“I never worried about conflicting oaths, because there are none more loyal to each other than you and Arthur. But never forget, Merlin, I am, and will always be, your man first.”

“Gwaine-” Merlin breathed out in a rush, but he didn’t seem to know what to say beyond that, so Gwaine smiled, and raised Merlin’s hand, kissing the back of it deliberately.

“Will I see you tomorrow, Merlin?” Gwaine asked, as he released Merlin’s hand, and lifted his head.

“Yes,” Merlin said, his eyes truthful and once again swimming with tears. 

Gwaine nodded, satisfied, and made to step away, but Merlin reached out and grabbed his shoulder, halting him. Merlin descended the last two steps before pulling Gwaine into a hug. When Merlin pulled back, he only pulled back enough to rest his forehead on Gwaine’s own.

“Thank you,” Merlin whispered into the air between them.

They stood like that for a moment, before Merlin stepped back, gave Gwaine a smile, and then turned and walked towards Gaius’ chambers.

Gwaine went the opposite direction towards the stables. As he passed underneath the windows of the royal chambers, he looked up, and gave the shadow there a nod.

*

The next day dawned like any other and Gwaine marveled at how everyone went about their day, as if there weren’t a heavy air of anticipation to every minute, to every breath. The King held court as usual, with Merlin standing behind him as always. The meeting at the Round Table went similarly. It was obvious that Arthur hadn’t slept well, but beyond that, nothing was out of the ordinary. Arthur offered little comment on the meetings affairs, but that, in itself, wasn’t too unusual - there wasn’t much activity in the Kingdom presently, certainly nothing that needed to be addressed immediately.

“Gwaine, remain a moment, I want a word,” Arthur ordered at the end of the meeting, as the other knights left the room. Gwaine felt the tension of the day fissure, as he nodded and stepped back towards the table. 

Merlin, who had, apparently, been expecting to leave the room, quickly shifted back to remain with Arthur, but the King turned to him and shook his head. “Merlin, please bring my lunch to my chambers - double portions. I’ll join you there soon.”

“Yes, Sire,” Merlin nodded, and, after casting a concerned look towards Gwaine, left the room.

Arthur stood behind his chair, his arms folded across the back. Gwaine didn’t sit back down, but instead stood on the other side of the table, behind his own chair.

“How long have you known?” Arthur asked.

“Known what, Your Highness?”

Arthur scowled. “Don’t play stupid, Gwaine, not today - I’m not in the mood. How long have you known about Merlin?”

“Nearly a day,” Gwaine answered honestly. 

This seemed to surprise Arthur, as he straightened and stared at Gwaine for a moment.

“He told you only yesterday? When?” Arthur asked.

Gwaine shook his head. “He didn’t tell me, Sire.” Gwaine took a deep breath, he told himself that it wasn’t a betrayal, as Merlin hadn’t told him to keep it a secret - and Arthur, most likely, had seen the horses. “Yesterday, after lunch, Merlin approached me in the courtyard for a favour. He asked me to saddle his horse - just his horse - at night and bring it to the courtyard.”

“And then he must have told you why-”

“No,” Gwaine repeated. “He told me he had an errand for Gaius, but I knew it was a lie.”

“Did you ask him for the truth?”

Gwaine laughed. “No, I trust Merlin.” 

“But he lied to you,” Arthur muttered, confused.

“If Merlin lies to me, it is for a reason,” Gwaine shrugged. “Usually, I don’t concern myself with it, but yesterday...it was different. I was worried.”

“What was different?” Arthur asked, and his voice dropped into something soft.

“Merlin was… frightened.”

Arthur scoffed, a small smile playing at his lips for the first time that day. “Merlin is often frightened.”

“No, he isn’t, not… truly. Not like yesterday. You must have seen it too,” Gwaine pressed.

Arthur took a deep breath and nodded, the smile vanishing. 

“I went to the tavern to think,” Gwaine continued with his story. Arthur rolled his eyes, but made no comment. “It was there that I… when the mercenaries were here, Dean and Sam, I had a drink with Dean in the tavern.” Gwaine continued. At the names of the mercenaries, Arthur stood up straight, and if Gwaine had felt under the King’s attention before, it was nothing like now. “He said something then, that my mind went back to as I thought of Merlin.”

“What did Dean say?” Arthur asked.

“He asked… he asked what I would do if you ordered Merlin’s execution,” Gwaine admitted. 

“What did you answer?” Arthur all but whispered.

“I told him you wouldn’t do such a thing,” Gwaine replied, as he locked his gaze with Arthur’s. 

“Oh, but he would have pressed,” Arthur smiled humorlessly. “What did you answer then?”

Gwaine glanced away. “We both know what I answered.”

“And was Dean satisfied?” Arthur asked, instead of pressing further himself.

“Yes,” Gwaine replied. 

Arthur simply nodded. Gwaine swallowed and tried to calm his racing heart.

“Sir Gwaine,” Arthur addressed him, his voice suddenly that of a King and not of a friend. “I’m reassigning you.”

“Yes, Sire?” Gwaine replied, and he couldn’t help the straightening of his spine, or the way his body still as he awaited his orders. His heart, meanwhile, was in his throat, as the possibilities of what Arthur intended ran through his head.

“In the coming weeks and months, there will be some changes coming to Camelot,” Arthur began. “There may be some who do not like these changes - I may be one of them, I haven’t decided yet. As of right now, I need to be able to rely on those I trust and trust those I rely on. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sire,” Gwaine replied, although he wasn’t sure he did.

“Good,” Arthur held Gwaine’s eyes. “Your new assignment is to protect Merlin, at all costs, from any and all threats to his life.”

“Yes, Sire,” Gwaine replied, his blood rushing with equal parts relief and gratitude.

“And, Gwaine, that includes if that threat is me,” Arthur added.

“Yes, Arthur,” Gwaine replied, but then he shook his head. “But I will not need to. Whatever doubt you may have, whatever hurt you currently feel, you will overcome it. There is no one more loyal than you to Merlin and Merlin to you, and there is nothing that can break that.”

Arthur took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment, before he nodded once. “You’re dismissed.”

Gwaine bowed his head, and then turned to leave. As he opened the door, Arthur’s voice stopped him short.

“Good work, Gwaine.”

Gwaine turned and smiled. “Thanks, Princess”, and with a wink, he slipped out into the hall.


	2. Merlin

**MERLIN**

It had been a few weeks since Sam and Dean had returned to their own world. Merlin was getting used to his new position and schedule. Mainly, he was now remembering what it felt like to be well rested and well nourished. He found he could think more clearly and he no longer got dizzy at odd times of the day. 

It was, perhaps, the clear-thinking that was the hardest part to adjust to, because now that he could delegate some of his duties, he also had more time to think - and more often than not, his thoughts circled back to Dean and Sam’s parting advice. He tried to ignore it - things were doing well now, there was no reason to invite trouble by revealing his magic to Arthur. 

So, Merlin tied put it out of his mind, until a niggling voice reminded him that peaceful times provided the only opportunity to reveal his magic to Arthur, since during any intrigue or upheaval, Merlin would not want to add further complications to already complicated situations.

But just the thought of it caused Merlin’s heart to hammer, as though Morgause’s immortal army were threatening the gates of Camelot - no, worse than that, because Merlin at least would know what to do in that situation. Merlin had no idea how Arthur might react to magic. Perhaps Sam and Dean had been confident that he would be accepting, but they had known Arthur only a fortnight. Merlin had known Arthur for years. He had seen Arthur’s anger at magic after Morgause had revealed the truth of his birth and Arthur had nearly killed his own father. Though, Merlin reminded himself that Arthur had been mad not at magic, but at his father, until Merlin had lied to him and told Arthur it was a sorcerers trick and not the truth. 

Had Merlin not seen Arthur promise to treat the druids with respect? Surely, that represented a softening heart and a possible change in Arthur’s opinion towards those who had magic. And had Sam not said that the reason that Arthur still feared magic was because he had never seen it used for good, as Merlin did? 

But, of course, Kilgharrah, the great dragon, had advised Merlin to hide his gifts, to protect Arthur in secret. Kilgharrah was wise and knew of the prophecy and how best to insure that it came to pass. Merlin tried not to remember how Kilgharrah had tricked Merlin into doing things in the past that suited Kilgharrah’s own desires rather than the needs Albion. He tried not to think about how Kilgharrah himself had admitted to not being infallible right after Sam and Dean had left. Could Merlin really trust that Kilgharrah was correct about Merlin having to hide himself away? Could he trust that Kilgharrah did not have some other motive for telling Merlin to do so, or, otherwise, might just be mistaken?

“What on earth are you thinking about?” Arthur’s voice cut in.

“Hm?”

“Merlin, have you listened to a word I’ve said?” 

“Yes… uh, you’re sending supplies to a village somewhere.”

“As usual, poorly summed up,” Arthur rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to tell you that there was a fire in-”

“A magical fire?!” Merlin asked.

“No,” Arthur said slowly. “A perfectly normal fire caused by a particularly dry season and a careless drunkard who knocked a lamp into a hay barn. There’s no reason to suspect foul play at all.”

“But you still think you should go and see for yourself?” Merlin suggested.

“No, Merlin, I have a kingdom to run. And the village just needs some extra grain and perhaps a few extra hands to help recover from the damage,” Arthur replied. “What is wrong with you these past few days. Are you bored? Is that it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Merlin answered honestly. “Everything is peaceful in the Kingdom. It’s been nice.”

“Yes, it has,” Arthur raised an eyebrow, “which is why I’m rather confused as to why you seem to want to borrow trouble at every turn.”

“I don’t know-”

“-what I’m talking about, yes, you said,” Arthur rolled his eyes. “Merlin, I know you are unused to not being overworked, and I do blame myself for that and apologize, but if you’re that hard-up for something to do, I suggest a hobby rather than looking for conquering armies to fight.”

“I didn’t say anything about an army,” Merlin argued.

“You did, just yesterday, when I mentioned that reports indicated that there were less deer in the Forest of Ascetir. You suggested that it might indicate that Lot was leading a secret army to overtake us,” Arthur replied evenly.

“Well, it’s not completely outside the realm of-”

“Merlin, Lot’s Kingdom is still recovering from Cenred’s foolish ventures. No matter his resentments, he is in no position to lead an-”

“What if Morgana-”

“Merlin!” Arthur exclaimed. “Honestly. I’ve half a mind to give you all your old duties back just to shut you up. Only, for some reason, I seem to prefer you to be among the living and the healthy. Now, tell me what is so bad about your life that you would wish it to be ended by an invading army or my angry sister.”

“Nothing,” Merlin went and fetched the silver pitcher in order to refill Arthur’s cup. The cup was still half full, but Merlin suddenly needed something to do with his hands, as his nerves bothered him, his heart hammering with the truth.  “I don’t know why… I guess I’m just not used to things being so calm.”

“Yes, you are,” Arthur’s brow furrowed, as Merlin filled his cup. “This is new. It started after Sam and Dean left.”

“No, it didn’t,” Merlin argued, using the excuse of returning the pitcher to the side table in order to turn away from the King.

“You knew who they were,” Arthur stated. Merlin closed his eyes eyes briefly and cursed the brothers for being honest about themselves with Arthur.

“I don’t-” 

“Don’t lie to me,” Arthur cut Merlin off. Merlin’s heart lurched at the words. “Merlin, you’ve never been afraid of anyone - not even my father - and yet you were afraid of those two men. You knew.”

“I did,” Merlin moved to sit back across from Arthur, his half-finished breakfast in front of him. Arthur nodded.

“Something about their visit has unsettled you,” Arthur continued. “What was it?”

“They gave me advice,” Merlin admitted. “But… following the advice is… frightening.”

“Ah,” Arthur smiled. “So, you’ve been trying to find reasons not to do it. Such as, perhaps, it not being possible because you are accompanying me on my way to fight a secret army, or uncover a sinister hidden sorcerer in some small village.” The smile fell from Arthur’s lips then, and he continued. “If those are your preferred tasks, this advice must be frightening indeed.”

Merlin sighed. “Arthur…” He knew Arthur wanted to know what the advice was now, but if he told him - well, then he’d be telling him, and that was exactly what Merlin was afraid of doing. “How do you tell if something is the right thing to do?”

Arthur leaned forward. “Does it feel like the right thing to do?” His gaze steady and sincere, he was every bit the King that he was meant to be, and Merlin loved him. 

“Yes,” Merlin answered, and was embarrassed to find pressure building behind his eyes. “But it will be hard.”

“I have often found,” Arthur said, in his even calm tone, “that the right things to do are often the hardest to do.”

Merlin bit his lip and nodded, then broke his gaze from Arthur’s. He busied himself with gathering up the breakfast plates and cutlery, standing to take them to the kitchens for washing.

“Are you really not going to tell me what it is?” Arthur finally asked, on the brink of annoyed, if Merlin had to put a label to it.

Merlin took a deep breath and stared down at the plates in his hands. In all his imaginations, he had never pictured doing this while holding dirty dishes. 

“Can I speak to you tonight, before bed?” Merlin asked, and then his stomach dropped and he quickly added. “Gwen too? Gwen… should be there too.” Because if it didn’t go well, if the worst happened, Merlin wouldn’t have time to explain to Gwen, he wouldn’t have time to say goodbye to the first friend he had made in Camelot.

“Of course,” Arthur said, seriously. Something of Merlin’s panic must have shown on his face, because Arthur’s face had lost all humour. “Merlin? If you were to follow this advice… You’re not planning on leaving, are you?”

Merlin swallowed and shook his head. He tried for a smile. “Not unless you sack me!”

Arthur smiled back and nodded. “Very well, then. Will you be attending me in court today?”

“Yes, of course,” Merlin answered as he all but fled the room. “Back in a minute!”

Merlin nearly dropped the plates, his hands were shaking so badly.

*

That evening, as Merlin went to close the drapes, he checked the courtyard to make sure Gwaine had kept his promise. It had been a last minute idea - a “just in case” measure - but now that the moment was drawing near, it seemed more and more likely that the last Merlin would see of Gwaine would be his confused face as Merlin fled the castle. He wished he could have told Gwaine the truth too, before he left. Would Gwaine still have helped Merlin escape? Or would he have brought him as prisoner before the King? Whatever the answer,  it was better for Gwaine this way - his loyalty could not be questioned. Merlin closed the drapes before he could dwell any longer on his regret for using his friend in such a fashion.

Across the room, Arthur and Gwen were laughing about something. Merlin didn’t know what, all other sounds were dulled beneath the sound of his heart thumping, his panic rising. He started to straighten the covers on the bed.

“Come, Merlin, what is it that you need to talk to us about?” Arthur’s voice rang from the vicinity of the fireplace. 

“Nothing,” Merlin found himself answering. “‘Twas nothing, forget it. You two are having a nice evening, I’ll just go and-”

“Merlin,” Gwen said gently, cutting him off.

“It’s obviously not nothing,” Arthur replied. “Leave the bedsheets and come speak with us. Whatever it is that is troubling you, we’d like to help.”

Merlin let the sheets fall from his hands and wrung his hands instead. But this was it, this was what Sam and Dean had advised, and this was what Merlin had decided. If the brother’s could control their destiny, why couldn’t Merlin control his own? Why put it in the hands of a dragon, who could very well be wrong. At least if he failed, he would fail by acting, rather than letting fate or a dragon act upon him. He took a deep breath and finally turned away from the bed, making his way towards the fireplace, where Arthur and Gwen stood.

“Let me get you both some chairs,” Merlin suggested, and then wondered if it was just an excuse to fuss about the chairs, which he moved slightly so that instead of facing each other, they both faced the fireplace. Arthur gave him a quizzical look, but he and Gwen both obeyed. It was only when Merlin stood in front of them, that he realized he had made a little court inside Arthur’s bedchambers - a King on his throne, his queen next to him, ready to pass judgment on Merlin, who stood in front of them with his back to a fire.

“Merlin, you’re making Gwen nervous,” Arthur said calmly. Gwen seemed to want to argue at that, but Arthur continued on without looking at her. “Out with it - it can’t be as bad as you think. What advice did the brothers give you?”

“They… they told me that I should be honest with you,” Merlin said. 

Arthur furrowed his brow, and leaned forward, his arms coming to rest on his knees. “Wise advice, but I don’t see how-”

“I’ve lied to you,” Merlin blurted out the confession. “I… there are things that I have not told you.”

“I see,” Arthur replied, now sitting back in his chair, his back straight. Merlin knew Arthur was preparing himself, but when Arthur and Gwen’s shared questioning glance, Merlin knew that Arthur did not yet know what Merlin could possibly say.

“The first… the lie that pains me the most… though I had no choice at the time, it was the only-” Merlin cut himself off. The truth should come first. He began again. “The lie that pains me the most is when I told you that the vision of your mother was merely a sorcerer’s trick. It wasn’t. That was… that was your mother, and what she spoke was the truth.”

Arthur took a deep breath, beside him Gwen glanced nervously at both her husband and Merlin. 

“That I was born of magic?” Arthur asked. “That my father used magic in order to have a son, at the cost of my mother’s life?”

Gwen put a hand to her mouth and stared at Arthur with wide disbelieving eyes.

“Yes,” Merlin said. “Though, I do not know if he knew… if he knew what the cost would be. But you cannot create life without-”

“-without taking it.” Arthur finished. “And he killed… he blamed… and yet you stopped me from killing him with this lie.”

“Yes,” Merlin replied. “If you had killed him… you would have regretted it, both as a son, and also… if you had taken the throne in such a manner, it would be seen as a son’s betrayal and you would have lost the love of your people. Both you and Camelot would have suffered.”

“How do you know she was real? How do you know it was the truth?” Arthur asked.

Merlin took a deep breath. “The same way I knew that Lancelot was a Shade when he returned.”

“You already admitted to having suspicions when the brother’s told me-”

“The… the thing that Lancelot would have known, that the Shade did not - it was about me,” Merlin replied.

“You watched me leave,” Gwen stated. “Why did you not say anything?”

Merlin bit his lip and willed back the tears, just like he had on the day that he watched Gwen pack her belongings and leave Camelot.

“I didn’t know about the bracelet - about the possibility that you had been bewitched,” Merlin explained, desperately. “I only knew that it was not Lancelot. I’m sorry, Gwen, I-”

“Enough. So, Lancelot didn’t betray me but my father did?” Arthur interrupted. “Merlin, what do these have to do with each other? It is too late to avenge my mother or punish my father for his wrong-doings, and I can hardly go back in time and not banish Guinevere. Why be honest about them now?”

“Because those were the lies that pained me the most,” Merlin replied. “But I knew if I were honest about them, then I would have to tell you… I would have to tell you what Lancelot knew.”

Merlin took a deep breath and drank in the sight of Arthur. This was possibly the last moment he would have to look at Arthur while Arthur was his truest friend - he tried to commit his features to memory - the concern, the expectation.

“Arthur, I have magic,” Merlin blurted out. “I was born with it.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Arthur replied. 

Gwen gasped said, “oh, Merlin,” as her eyes welled with tears.

“It’s true - Arthur, you must believe me, I’ve only ever used it for good, to protect you and Camelot-”

“You’re talking nonsense, Merlin,” Arthur all but yelled. “Stop it at once.”

“Perhaps… you could show us?” Gwen said softly, eyeing her husband with concern.

Merlin nodded, he knelt down in front of Arthur and cupped his hands together, breathing a spell into them. He knew that his eyes flashed when Arthur sucked in a sharp breath and his angry eyes turned terrified. It broke Merlin’s heart, but he forced a smile, because now at least, Arthur would believe him. He opened his hands and let the single blue butterfly out into the room.

Arthur stood suddenly, and Merlin flinched away - but Arthur just turned on his heel and walked away, into the darkness of the bedchamber.

“Leave me,” he commanded.

“Arthur, please, I-” 

“Leave me!” 

Merlin couldn’t help the sob that escaped his lips, though he clapped a hand immediately to his mouth. He didn’t think he could stand now even if he wanted to, but he did not know whether he should follow Arthur’s order or not.

“Stay where you are, Merlin,” Gwen said softly, her face gentle. “You said Lancelot knew? For how long?”

“Since… since the day we slayed the Griffin,” Merlin answered, his voice wavering. “It was a magical beast and could only be killed with magic.”

“ _ You _ slayed the Griffin!” Arthur said, striding back across the room. 

Merlin shook his head. “I enchanted the lance. It was down to him to strike true. I could not have done it alone.”

“And he said nothing,” Arthur stated.

“He knew you would have chopped my head off,” Merlin replied. “And Lancelot was a good friend.”

“I don’t know what I would have done,” Arthur came and sat down again. “Why did  _ you  _ never tell me, before now?”

“Because I didn’t want… I didn’t want to put you in this position,” Merlin replied. “I’m sorry, Arthur.”

“ _ That’s _ what worried you?”

“Why are you telling us now, Merlin?” Gwen asked, her voice still soft, but wavering slightly, as though she was trying to hold back great emotion. Merlin knew any subject related to Lancelot still pained her, and he felt bad for reopening those wounds.

“The brothers… they… said, they said that I should give you some credit,” Merlin admitted. “That you don’t see the good in magic because people like me are afraid to tell you.”

“Because I might send you to the executioner?” Arthur asked.

“Will you?” Merlin asked.

“If I did, would you go willingly?” Arthur asked, his eyes narrowing as he studied Merlin.

Merlin shook his head. “No, I’m sorry Arthur.”

“Then what are you so afraid of?”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to leave, it will be harder to protect you if I’m no longer by your side.” Merlin could feel the tears burning in his eyes.

“You’d still help me, even if I sent you away?” 

“Of course I would, I’ll always protect you or I’ll die at your side,” Merlin replied. He scrubbed at the tears spilling down his cheeks.

“Why?” Arthur asked, in what appeared to be genuine confusion.

“Because you’re my king,” Merlin answered, fresh tears now falling from his eyes. “Because I love you.”

Arthur closed his eyes then and didn’t say anything else. Merlin looked desperately towards Gwen, only to find her eyes full of sympathy, or perhaps it was pity. 

“Gwen,” Merlin said on a sob. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh Merlin,” Gwen said, then she smiled. “You really were in disguise - hm? The hero-type after all.”

Merlin smiled back, though he could not stop crying. 

“Arthur,” Gwen said softly. “Please tell Merlin that you aren’t going to kill him.”

Arthur opened his eyes then to glare at Gwen, and Merlin could see that Arthur’s eyes were also damp with tears. 

“Of course I’m not going to kill you, Merlin,” Arthur said. 

“Are you going to send me away?” Merlin wiped at his cheeks again. “Are you going to sack me?”

“I don’t know,” Arthur said, hopelessly. “I need… time to think… I need some time.”

“I’ll… tell George to bring you breakfast tomorrow, shall I?” Merlin asked. 

“Yes, I think that would for the best,” Arthur nodded. 

“Of course,” Merlin said, trying to rally his emotions. “Thank you… thank you, Arthur.”

Arthur stood up and walked towards the bed, bringing a hand to his face only when he was facing away. 

“Right, time for bed then,” Gwen announced, standing up as well. Merlin scrambled to his feet as Gwen took a step towards him. The next thing he knew, he was being hugged. “Give him time, Merlin,” Gwen whispered in his ear, then she stepped back and said, a little louder, “Thank you for telling us. It was very brave.”

Merlin breathed a sigh of relief. At the very least, Gwen did not hate him. 

“I’ll put out the candles,” Merlin said. “Sleep well, My Queen.”

Gwen gave him a smile and shook her head, as she always did when he referred to her as anything other than Gwen. Across the room, Arthur had already pulled the curtain across the bed chamber, so Merlin simple blew out the candles in the main room and tamped down the fire. 

He felt like he could still lose everything at any moment, yet, for the first time since he had arrived in Camelot, he felt free. 


	3. Arthur

**ARTHUR**

Arthur lay in the dark and felt sick. He listened to the sounds of Merlin moving around the his rooms, and realized that what was once a comforting lullaby now felt like a violation by a stranger. Gwen settled into bed behind him, and placed her hand on his shoulder, but he didn’t turn towards her. It felt foolish to turn his back to the stranger in the room - a  _ sorcerer _ \- and yet he could not bring himself to face him either, not even with both Gwen and a drawn curtain between them.

Finally, the door shut, and Arthur and Gwen were alone. There was a long moment of silence.

“Arthur-”

“Shh,” Arthur cut Gwen off with a whisper. “He’s still by the door.”

Arthur knew the sound of Merlin’s feet in the hall better than he knew anyone else’s, perhaps, when it came down to it, Merlin’s footfalls were the only ones he knew. Merlin had closed the door and then not moved away. Arthur waited another moment and listened as Merlin’s feet made an odd sort of noise, and then…

“There’s someone in the hall with him,” Arthur whispered, as there was a murmur before two pairs of footsteps moved down the hall, one painfully familiar, the other a mystery. Arthur sprang out of bed.

“Arthur!” Gwen called, but Arthur continued to move towards the window and Gwen didn’t follow up his name with any sort of command. If Merlin were returning to his rooms with whomever had been waiting in the hallway, then Arthur would be able to see them as they passed through the courtyard.

When he opened the curtain and looked down towards the steps, his stomach dropped. There, waiting in the courtyard, were two horses, one of which was definitely Merlin’s - the other, Arthur wasn’t sure, it was too small to be Percival’s, even though it was he who held the reigns, waiting.

“Arthur, what is it?” Gwen whispered, and Arthur knew that there must have been enough moonlight for her to have seen his face.

“Merlin has his horse waiting,” Arthur replied. “Do you think… if he planned to leave either way, why tell me at all!?”

“Is he leaving?” Gwen asked, far too calmly, in Arthur’s opinion.

“He hasn’t come out yet,” Arthur muttered.

“Then I’m sure it was only a precaution,” Gwen said, and Arthur was sure that was supposed to make him feel better, but all it did was twist his gut in a different way than before.

Outside, Percival stood up and turned to the main doors of the castle. Arthur couldn’t see who stood there, but he saw Percival respond to them, smile, and then lead the horses towards the stable.

“He’s sent the horses away,” Arthur said in a relieved sigh, narrating for Gwen’s benefit.

“Hors _ es _ ? There were two?” Gwen asked, but Arthur’s attention was on the steps, as Merlin and Gwaine slowly came into view as they descended. 

“ _ Gwaine _ \- it was Gwaine’s horse with Merlin’s - I didn’t recognize it.” Arthur cursed himself inwardly. “I don’t know it as well as I know Merlin’s.”

“Then Gwaine knows already,” Gwen concluded, while Arthur watched Gwaine move in front of Merlin and take his hand, saying words into the night. Arthur couldn’t hear them, but nevertheless, Arthur recognized an oath of allegiance when he saw one. 

“Yes, he does,” Arthur whispered, as he watched Gwaine seal his words with a kiss to Merlin’s hand. He knew that he should be feeling betrayed, betrayed by his second knight, just as his first had- but no, his first hadn’t betrayed him, and this didn’t feel like a betrayal either. This was different.

Down in the courtyard, Merlin embraced Gwaine, and stepped back just enough to put their faces together- Arthur looked away, back into the darkness of the bedroom. It seemed overly dark after staring at the moon-drenched courtyard for so long. 

“What is it?” Gwen asked.

“They’re saying goodnight,” Arthur replied, his tone flat. 

“Oh,” Gwen said, and Arthur could just make out her brief smile in the darkness. He knew then, that what he was feeling was jealousy and he was ashamed of himself for it.

Arthur looked back out into the courtyard, only to see that the two had just parted ways, both striding in opposite directions. Merlin, returning to Gaius’ quarters, and Gwaine walking towards the Knight’s Hall. As Gwaine passed below Arthur’s window, he looked directly at Arthur and nodded. Arthur snapped the drape closed.

“He saw me,” Arthur said.

“Merlin?”

“Gwaine,” Arthur said. “He’s… chosen Merlin, over me, if it comes down to it.”

Gwen stayed silent. Arthur leaned against his desk, staring at the servant’s entrance to his bedroom. 

“I don’t blame him,” he found himself saying. “I’d do the same.”

“Chose Merlin over Gwaine?” Gwen asked softly. Arthur chuckled, it was weak at best, humourless. 

“No, I meant… I’d just chose Merlin, over… over everyone,” Arthur whispered, then he turned and looked at Gwen. “Except you, my love.”

Gwen smiled. “I know, Arthur.”

Arthur made his way over to the bed, where Gwen was sitting, but instead of getting into it, he knelt down in front of her, and leaned his cheek upon her knee. 

“You won’t ask me to kill Merlin, will you?” He whispered.

Gwen threaded her fingers gently through his hair and smiled softly. 

“No, Arthur. I would never be so cruel as to take him from you.”

Arthur closed his eyes against the burning of unshed tears. They stayed like that for a long moment, while Arthur tried to only focus on Guinevere’s fingers as they stroked his hair. He tried not to think of Gwaine in the courtyard, or the two horses, or Merlin’s confession, or Merlin’s bright blue eyes filled with tears and fear - so much fear.

“I still don’t understand why he was so frightened, if he had an escape prepared,” Arthur said aloud. It was jarring to hear his voice in the quiet of the room, and he wished immediately that he hadn’t said it.

“Oh Arthur, did you not hear when he said-”

“That nonsense about being unable to protect me?” Arthur interrupted. “I’m an undefeated champion in the arena and in combat. I can and do look after myself just fine.”

“Arthur,” Gwen said, unimpressed. 

“What?” Arthur asked. In response, Gwen tightened her grip on his hair and pulled his head away from her leg and back, so that he was forced to look up at her.

“He is frightened for the same reason you are,” Gwen replied, as though Arthur were an idiot.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “He’s frightened that I’m a sorcerer?”

“No,” Gwen sighed. “He’s frightened because he  _ loves _ you and you might break his heart.” 

Gwen promptly released her hold on Arthur, and shifted backwards on the bed.  Arthur remained on the floor, suddenly unsure what was happening. 

“It’s the same reason he lied to you all these years,” Gwen added, as she fluffed up her pillow and lay down. “Now, come to bed, everything will be better after a night’s rest.”

Arthur, for lack of any other rational thought, simply obeyed.

*

The morning wasn’t better. It was decidedly worse. Perhaps, it was because Arthur hadn’t really gotten a night’s rest. He felt as though he had spent the whole night staring at the canopy of his bed while his world came crashing down around him. Still, what made the morning decidedly worse was that George woke him up - the fact that Arthur had been asleep had been a miracle, and then George of all people ruined it.

“Good Morning, Sire,” George called as he came into the room, carrying two heaping plates of food. Arthur resisted the urge to throw something at him. He had forgotten how horrible it felt to be woken up by anyone but Merlin. George waking him up had always been a sign that something was horribly wrong with the world… and it was no different now, only, Arthur didn’t think he needed the reminder.

“Oh! Queen Guinevere!” George exclaimed, seeming flustered and blushing as he turned his back to the bed and stood facing the wall. “I did not realize you had spent the- that is- I do apologize-”

“It’s fine, George,” Gwen said, her voice low with the first words of day. Ordinarily, Arthur would kiss her and tease her into saying more, but he wasn’t in the mood, and certainly George would have a stroke. Merlin wouldn’t have gotten flustered at all upon finding Gwen in Arthur’s bed, he would have teased them, and then laughed and eaten Arthur’s breakfast while Arthur tried to keep Gwen in bed.  

“Would you like me to fetch Mary, My Lady,” George asked. “I’m afraid Merlin did not tell me that you were here, or else I would have brought enough breakfast for two.”

Arthur looked over at the plates that George had hastily placed on his desk. There was enough food there for four at least. Honestly.

“No, that’s quite all right, George, thank you,” Gwen replied, her voice already rising to its normal higher pitch. “She’ll be awaiting me in my chambers, as usual. She knows that the King’s Chambers are Merlin’s responsibility...um, usually. Will you give the King and I a moment, George?”

“Of course,” George did an odd sort of shuffle out of the room, so that he never faced the bed while leaving. 

“It will be all right, Arthur,” Gwen said, looking down at him. Arthur rolled onto his stomach and buried his face half in the pillow. “You’ll have to do better than that today, I’m afraid,” Gwen continued, smiling gently. “Come on - rise and shine!” And wasn’t that just another stab to the heart.

“No.”

“Okay, what else works when you’re… like this?” Gwen asked. Arthur thought about the time Merlin had called him a lazy daisy when Arthur had complained about the repetitiveness of ‘rise and shine’ every morning for years on end. Merlin had tried to switch it up occasionally after that. Arthur’s secret favourite was the time Merlin announced ‘It’s morning in the swamp!’ Because it had made no sense and was an absurd thing to even think to say, so, naturally, Arthur had laughed about it everytime the memory struck him thereafter. But not even that memory seemed cheerful now.

“Physical force,” Arthur finally said, because that was the actual truth. Merlin was very good at hauling him out of bed, standing him upright, patting him on the back, and telling him he was a good king.

Gwen rolled her eyes, leaned over and kissed him softly on the cheek and then got out of bed.

“I’m going to my chambers to get ready for the day,” she announced, as she fastened an extra robe around herself. “I’ll see you when we hold court. Now - you can either get of bed yourself, or I’ll tell George to haul you out like Merlin would - I highly doubt you actually want that to happen, so I suggest-”

Arthur groaned and heaved himself out of bed. He didn’t want George to touch him. That would be the final violation of all his sacred morning rituals, and he wouldn’t stand for it.

“There we go,” Gwen smiled. Arthur took a step towards her and gave her a quick peck on the lips. Then sighed.

“What am I going to do, Guinevere?”

“You are going to have breakfast, and then you are going to attend court, then the Round Table, then it’s lunch, I suppose and-” 

“I’m serious,” Arthur cut her off.

“So am I,” Gwen defended. “You don’t have to make any sort of decision right this moment, Arthur.”

He nodded. Gwen smiled and then left, sending George back in as she did so.

Arthur sat down and tried to eat some breakfast. His mind was consumed so fully with the revelations of the previous evening, that in truth, he could not pull one thought from the other, nor if someone asked him would be he be able to articulate what he was thinking. He was thinking so much that it was as though he couldn’t think at all. And yet, there George was, with the day’s itinerary and the morning reports, expecting Arthur to pay attention. All Arthur’s thoughts were focused on Merlin, not the petty affairs of the Kingdom, and what he really needed was someone who knew Merlin’s secret, and could also give Arthur advice - Arthur closed his eyes for a moment when he realized that it was quite obvious who he should be speaking to.

“... the Potter’s Guild wish to bring a contested leadership problem before you in court today,” George was reciting. “Also, already scheduled, is a matter between two farmers, one says the other killed his livestock in an act related- oh dear, one moment, Sire. You appear to have an insect in your room. I’ll dispatch it for you.”

Arthur barely caught the subject change, yet George had only taken two steps, when Arthur found himself saying, “If you harm that butterfly, so help me, I will kill you where you stand.”

George squeaked and his entire body stilled. Arthur immediately felt bad about his words, but he did not regret the sentiment.

“My apologies, George,” Arthur said calmly. “That was… unnecessarily threatening. If you could be so kind as to fetch Gaius for me, I would appreciate it.” 

“Are you feeling unwell, My Lord?” George asked, with a great deal of caution, Arthur noted. 

“No,” Arthur sighed. “I need to speak to him concerning another matter.” Arthur glanced at the wall, where the butterfly was flashing its wings. “Gaius knows a great deal about butterflies. Go fetch him for me.”

“Yes, Sire,” George placed the day’s court schedule on Arthur’s desk and swiftly left the room. 

Arthur stared at the butterfly on the wall. Its wings were the colour of Merlin’s eyes. It was the bluest blue that Arthur had ever seen. As he watched it, it launched itself off the wall and fluttered haphazardly around the room. Arthur huffed a laugh - it figured that any butterfly conjured by Merlin would be clumsy. The butterfly made a few approaches to the desk, but each time, seemed to back off as soon as Arthur moved. Arthur furrowed his brow at the behaviour, and then looked down at the two plates in front of him, one filled with eggs and bread, the other with fruit, and he realized what was happening.

“Are you hungry?” Arthur asked. The butterfly was a butterfly, so it just flew away, then a little closer, then away again.

Arthur picked up a strawberry and reached across his desk to place it carefully on the furthest corner. He then scooted his chair even further away, and then sat very still and watched. It was only a half minute later that the butterfly flew directly to the strawberry, open and closed its wings several times, and then began to feel the berry all over with it’s little bug limbs and weird bug face-things - Arthur didn’t know how insects worked.

The door opened and Gaius and George came back in. 

“George, you’re dismissed,” Arthur called out.

“Yes, Sire,” George replied, though he seemed surprised, and then he turned on his heel and left. There was something to be said for unquestioning obedience, Arthur thought.

“George said you wanted to see me about a butterfly, Sire,” Gaius said, his voice perfectly proper and polite. Overly so, really. It was as though Gaius was someone who hadn’t known Arthur since he was a babe.

“I gave it breakfast, it seems fine,” Arthur answered, waving his hand at the end of the desk where the butterfly was happily eating its strawberry. Gaius’ eyes went a little wide.

“Remarkable,” he muttered. He made an aborted movement, as though he wished to go closer, but held himself back, still standing at attention for the King.

“I assume you knew from the beginning,” Arthur started. “And you’ve also been lying to me all these years.”

“Not lying, Sire, simply… not offering information.” Gaius’ eyes finally left the bug and returned to Arthur. “And yes, I did know from the beginning. Merlin is Hunith’s son, there was little doubt he would have magic, though the extent of which, I admit I had not anticipated.”

“Does Hunith have magic?” Arthur asked, remembering the poor peasant woman who had treated him so kindly.

“No,” Gaius answered. “But Merlin’s father did, and his was an ability passed by lineage, though again, I had not anticipated Merlin’s particular abilities.”

“You’ve said that, I don’t understand.” Arthur furrowed his brow.

“What did Merlin tell you about himself?” Gaius asked, casting a long look at the butterfly.

“He told me he had magic,” Arthur answered. “He conjured that butterfly when I did not believe him.”

“Arthur,” Gaius said, and it was the first time that his formality left him, and Arthur felt like he was talking to his old uncle Gaius. “Merlin doesn’t just have magic. I have observed him closely all these years, and I can only conclude that Merlin IS magic.”

“I don’t understand,” Arthur grumbled. “What’s the difference?”

“Merlin isn’t just a sorcerer, Arthur,” Gaius explained. “He is the greatest sorcerer to ever walk the earth.”

“ _ Merlin? _ ” Arthur raised an eyebrow.  

“The first day he arrived,” Gaius continued, “he cast a spell without incantation, either verbal or mental, but by pure instinct, as one would brush a fly from their face or catch a falling cup.  It was no small spell either - in all my years, I have never seen even the most practiced magic user be able to do what he did.” 

“What did he do?” Arthur leaned back in his chair.

“He stopped time,” Gaius replied. “At first, I thought it was that he could simply stop objects in time. This was extremely remarkable in itself - but soon I discovered that he could also stop, or slow, time for an entire room of people, while he himself remained free to move at normal, or even increased speed.”

“When did he-”

“Arthur, how do you think it was that he saved you from that witch’s knife, that night at the banquet?”

Arthur sucked in a breath. He knew he had wondered the same, but had long since forgotten it - Merlin was always by his side, as his manservant, it was easy to forget that on that night, he had been just another peasant - Gaius’ new charge - standing in the shadows practically outside the room.

“Has he ever killed anyone?” Arthur found himself asking. It was the question he feared most, and he had put it off for long enough.

“Of course he has,” Gaius said, matter of factly. Arthur felt his stomach drop. If Merlin had murdered people, there would be no way to keep him from the executioner - there would be no way for Arthur to justify his survival. “The first time was also that same night. The witch who tried to kill you - how do you think she came to be dying under a fallen chandelier, while everyone in the room was in an enchanted sleep? I assure you, Arthur, Merlin has only ever killed to keep you or Camelot safe - as you, and all the knights, also do.”

“The chandelier,” Arthur muttered. “I just thought it was luck.”

“Often, when people have an advantage that they do not know they possess, they will attribute their successes to luck,” Gaius replied with a small smile. “It is a foible of the human mind that I’m afraid Merlin has taken advantage of all these years.”

“So, I haven’t been lucky at all,” Arthur muttered, placing his elbows on the desk, leaning his head forward to be propped up by his fingers.

“You’ve been lucky to have Merlin,” Gaius replied. 

Gaius let Arthur bury his face in his hands for a moment and contemplate whether it’d be easier to renounce the kingship and begin life again as a farmer, before he spoke again.

“What am I going to do, Gaius?” Arthur asked. “I don’t want to kill or banish him - but do I even know who he is? He’s being lying to me all these years.”

“Arthur, you know exactly who Merlin is,” Gaius replied. “He has never lied to you about that.”

“Gaius, he’s a sorcerer!” Arthur all but hissed. 

“Merlin has not lied to you about who he is,” Gaius said slowly. “He has only lied to you about what he can do.”

“It feels the same,” Arthur replied.

“But it is not,” Gaius argued. “Trust me, Arthur - Merlin may have magic, but he is also the same clumsy idiot that you have known and … tolerated all these years.”

Arthur closed his eyes and shook his head, but it was more to hide the fact that his eyes were beginning to burn again, then it was about denying what Gaius was saying. Arthur swallowed against the rising emotion in his throat, and tried to gather himself.

“Sire, are you going to be calling on Merlin at all today?” Gaius asked. Arthur lifted his head and saw that Gaius was still eyeing the damned butterfly. “I only ask, because if he’s not needed in the Castle, I could send him to pick mushrooms in the Darkling Wood.”

Arthur mind immediately went to the horses in the courtyard the night before. The panic he felt when he thought of Merlin leaving returned, even though he knew that this wasn’t a ploy - this wasn’t some sort of scheme to help Merlin flee Camelot. If Merlin was really the greatest sorcerer in the world, then he could leave at any time…. Any time at all, and Arthur could do nothing to stop him.

“No, I mean, yes!” Arthur said, fumbling over the correct answer. Then he thought of Gwaine’s nod the night before, and quickly added. “Tell Merlin he’ll be attending me both at court and the Round Table as usual.”

Gaius seemed surprised, but nodded.

“Where is he now?” Arthur asked.

“In his room,” Gaius replied. “I thought it best he get as much rest as possible.”

Arthur nodded, wishing that someone had paid him the same courtesy. He glanced down at his breakfast. It looked untouched, even though he had managed to eat at least some of it. Arthur picked up the plate and held it out to Gaius, who immediately looked offended.

“It’s for Merlin,” Arthur explained. “He usually… uh… he usually eats with me, and George always brings too much. And I don’t think the butterfly needs more than the one strawberry…”

“Ah, of course, Sire,” Gaius said, and he came forward to take the plate. As he did so though, his eyes were once again on the butterfly. 

Arthur put down the plate instead of handing it off, and nodded towards the insect. “If you’re so fascinated, feel free to have a look.”

Gaius nodded, and then leaned over the butterfly very slowly to take a better look. The butterfly seemed perturbed by the attention and fluttered its wings. Gaius backed away slightly. 

“Simply remarkable,” Gaius muttered.

“What is?” Arthur finally asked. “That the greatest sorcerer in the world was asked to prove his magic, and all he did was conjure a butterfly?”

Gaius looked at Arthur with wide-eyes. “Sire, I don’t think you realize… Merlin told me that you know of your mother’s death, and how magic cannot create life-”

“Yes,” Arthur cut Gaius off, not wanting yet another painful subject to be discussed. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“A conjured illusion would have dissipated within moments and certainly would not require food,” Gaius said, finally reaching over and taking Arthur’s breakfast plate. “I know it might appear to be a simple being, in the eyes of man, but there is no denying that this butterfly is very much alive.”

With that, Gaius bowed and left, leaving Arthur alone with a butterfly that should not exist.

*

Arthur’s guts were in knot by the time he reached the court - what would it be to see Merlin again? Could he really act as though nothing had happened? Could he really sit with his back to a sorcerer and not feel fear - to trust in his friend, even though his friend had betrayed him.

When the guards opened the doors, Merlin was already by the throne, and as Arthur strode forward, he felt his anxiety leave him in a great rush. It was hard to fear someone who had pillow creases imprinted on his cheek and his hair sticking up in odd directions.  Arthur rolled his eyes. 

“Sire,” Merlin said, the single word coming out quiet and unsure. 

“Honestly, Merlin, do you not own a comb?” Arthur rolled his eyes, and stepped towards his servant. He reached up and tried to tame Merlin’s wayward hair to the best of his ability.

“Oy!” Merlin exclaimed, making as if to move away, then, uncharacteristically he stilled and his expression turned nervous. Arthur felt his heart sink at the reminder that things had changed. He turned away and saw Gwen entering the room. The smile that was on her face fell slightly as Arthur caught her eye. 

“Good morning, Merlin,” Gwen greeted. 

“My Queen,” Merlin  nodded, and then took his position.

Arthur barely paid attention in court. His mind fully focused two steps behind him and a little to the right. Had he ever really known Merlin? There had always been something about him that Arthur hadn’t understood - Arthur had always felt that, and now he knew what it was. The mystery was solved. The final piece of the puzzle slid into place. But what information had that puzzle given him.

Gaius had said that Merlin had never lied about who he was - but how was that possible, when the boy that Arthur knew was a simple peasant from Lot’s kingdom. A simple peasant who was braver than anyone Arthur had ever met - a peasant who ran into danger beside his Prince, his King, untrained and weaponless. Arthur had loved him for his reckless courage.

But this whole time, Merlin hadn’t been untrained or weaponless - he had been, apparently, the most powerful sorcerer to walk the earth. He could have easily defended himself - defended Arthur - defeated their enemies. 

But had he? Not always… Arthur could still remember the sinking fear of seeing Merlin fall at the end of mace. He could remember watching the wound fester as he carried Merlin through the forest, trying to get him back to Camelot, back to safety anywhere, while Merlin’s breaths came shorter and he paled further. Why had he not defended himself then? Why had he not healed himself? Could he create butterflies but not heal a wound? Could he kill witches, but not a man with a mace?

Of course, no one in their right mind would openly practice magic in Camelot - not if they wanted to live to see the morning. Arthur stilled at the thought, as he realized that in solving one mystery, he had uncovered another.

In front of him, some farmer accused his neighbour of killing his cattle with magic. The accused neighbour, a young woman, stood angrily before Arthur, her jaw tense and jutted out proudly. Arthur motioned to her to explain. And while she did - the cattle were sick, she hoped to stop the spread of the disease before it infected the neighbouring farms - Arthur thought of another simple farmer woman that he had met. A simple peasant who sent her only son, a boy so full of magic that he could stop time and form butterflies with a breath, to Camelot… Camelot, where one need only be accused of sorcery to be hanged for it.

Arthur motioned Merlin forward with a wave of his hand. In front of him, the woman stopped talking, her eyes still hard and her face still proud - the man who accused her was glaring at her with narrowed eyes.

Merlin knelt next to Arthur’s throne and looked up at him.

“It’s not an uncommon disease among cattle, Arthur,” Merlin said softly. “And the best method is to burn the bodies to prevent-”

“Yes, I know,” Arthur cut Merlin off impatiently, and then lowered his voice even more. “Merlin, is your mother insane? Why on earth would she send you to Camelot of all places?”

Merlin looked confused. “She sent me to Gaius,” Merlin said softly.

“Hm,” Arthur grunted, and then waved Merlin away. He ruled in favour of the woman, and ordered the man to compensate her for her travels, and forbid him from buying more cattle until he had thoroughly cleaned his barn.

Hunith had sent her only son to the only man she knew who was studied in magic. And that man happened to be adviser to magic’s worse enemy, Uther Pendragon. And Merlin had gone… Merlin had gone into the heart of a kingdom that would see him killed for how he was born. Merlin came and stayed, and became the manservant for the very man who would inherit that kingdom, a man who would enforce his father’s laws, a man who may have sent Merlin to the executioner’s block himself, in those early days… before… before Merlin had become his truest friend.

Arthur thought this over as court ended, and they moved to the meeting of the Round Table. He bid afternoon to Guinevere, who was meeting with some of the noble women. Then he let Merlin pull out his chair and he sat down as the knights filed into the room and took their positions around the table.

They all greeted Arthur and most, if not all, greeted Merlin as well, and smiled. Gwaine greeted both of them. Arthur smiled back, though it caused the weight on his mind to feel heavier, as he realized that Gwaine may be the only knight that Merlin could truly trust.

Merlin had not only served and befriended a crowned Prince who might kill him. He had done the same for all the knights of Camelot. His mother had thrown him into a lion’s den, and Merlin had… loved the lions, though they might tear him apart at a moment’s notice.

Merlin had rode by Arthur’s side into battles - weaponless, because Camelot had disarmed him; untrained, because Camelot forbid him training. And it wasn’t just in battle - Merlin had lived every day surrounded by his enemies - only one mistake, one betrayal, away from certain death… or exile, if Merlin had managed to escape.

If Lancelot had betrayed him, if Gwaine had, if Merlin had resorted to magic to defend himself and been seen… there were so many possibilities for his destruction. Gaius had been right. Merlin had never lied about who he was. He was a reckless idiot and the bravest man that Arthur had ever known.

As Caradoc gave his report, Arthur looked across the table at Gwaine, who was looking at Merlin. Gwaine was wary, concerned, and looked nearly as distracted as Arthur felt. Arthur couldn’t help but think of watching Merlin and Gwaine on the steps outside the castle, wondering if they were going to run away together, of the fact that Gwaine choosing Merlin hadn’t felt like the betrayal it should have. It wasn’t a surprise, really. Before Arthur had made him a knight, Gwaine had only ever been called to arms by Merlin. Arthur felt not betrayal, but relief, that at least one of the lions was on Merlin’s side - would protect him from the others.

Gwaine caught Arthur’s eye and then looked away and down at the table. Guilty, Arthur realized… he felt guilty for offering his love and protection to someone who was probably desperate for it. Arthur had to change that. It had to be the first thing Arthur changed.

And deciding on the first thing, meant that Arthur had decided on the last thing too - because there was only one path forward, now that he had determined the direction of his first step. 

*

When Arthur arrived in his rooms, Merlin had the table set for Arthur’s lunch and was filing his goblet with water.  He quickly stood at attention when Arthur walked in. It was unlike him. Any other day, he would have given Arthur a smile and then pulled out the other chair, and nattered away at Arthur about whatever struck his fancy while picking unashamedly off of Arthur’s plate…. That had been their routine for the past two months, ever since Arthur had started sharing his meals with Merlin. Now, it was as though they were reverting back to before - before the brothers, before they were friends - when Merlin was simply the manservant that Arthur’s father had thrust upon him. Arthur didn’t like it.

Arthur sat down and tried to think of how to start the conversation that they needed to have. The silence was heavy and awkward and growing more so with each passing moment. Merlin put down the pitcher and started flitting about the room - obviously noting that Arthur had sent George away even before George had a chance to make the bed.

Arthur tried to rehearse in his head what he might say - he still had questions, but was it best to go with those first, or to put Merlin’s mind at ease about his future. More likely, it was the second that was best.

“Why is there a strawberry on your desk?” Merlin asked from across the room. “Arthur, you’ll get ants! Do you  _ want  _ ants?!”

Arthur stared at Merlin, his fork halfway to his mouth. 

Merlin seemed to remember himself and then just stood and stared equally at Arthur, as though Arthur might have decided that commenting on the strawberry was what would tip Arthur over the edge and send Merlin to the gallows. 

It was ridiculous -  _ Merlin _ was ridiculous.  Some wound inside Arthur healed itself right then and there.

“It was for your butterfly,” Arthur explained. “I gave it breakfast.”

Merlin’s mouth dropped open for a moment, before he seemed to collect himself. When he spoke, his voice was oddly soft. “You gave my butterfly breakfast?”

Arthur shrugged and looked down at his plate, now uncomfortable.  When he looked up again, he was startled at the sight of Merlin standing with his hand outstretched like a falconer, his eyes aglow with magic. He watched transfixed as the blue butterfly descended from Arthur’s high ceiling and settled in Merlin’s open hand.

“You won’t hurt it?” Arthur found himself asking.

Merlin smiled, his eyes fading back to their normal bright blue - the blue of the butterfly’s wings. “I’m just letting it outside, Arthur.”

Arthur nodded approvingly and watched Merlin move gently over to the window, opening it into the afternoon sun, and then holding the butterfly outside, until it flew off into the open air. 

“Come sit with me,” Arthur ordered, and he kicked the chair to his right out from under the table. Merlin didn’t bother closing the window, he just turned and walked towards Arthur - whatever brief smile had been on his lips as the butterfly had been released vanished. Arthur felt something twist inside him.

“Was it you who summoned the brothers?” Arthur asked as Merlin sat down.

Merlin nodded. Arthur picked up another piece of chicken with his fingers and then pushed his lunch plate towards Merlin.

“And do you know who summoned the monsters to begin with?” Arthur asked, popping the chicken into his mouth. 

“A sorcerer - he was trying to gain Morgana’s favour by attacking Camelot,” Merlin answered, using his fingers to tear more chicken from the bone. 

“And what became of him?” Arthur asked.

“I killed him,” Merlin replied simply. “He… knew who I was - what I was - if he had told Morgana… “

“So, Morgana doesn’t know,” Arthur concluded, glossing over the idea of Merlin killing a man, and how wrong that sat in Arthur’s gut, even though, as Gaius had pointed out, he had witnessed Merlin doing so before - most likely more than Arthur realized. “Did you know about Morgana?”

“I did, yes,” Merlin replied.

“But you never told her that you also had magic?” Arthur pressed, trying to imagine two people hiding their true natures, even from those that would obviously understand and may be forgiving. 

“I wanted to - at first - I thought… I thought that…. Maybe I should have,” Merlin answered, stripping more meat from the bone, but not bothering to eat it.  Arthur made an inquiring noise, and Merlin continued, still studiously looking down at his plate. “Maybe she wouldn’t have felt so alone.”

“Like you did,” Arthur concluded. 

“I had Gaius,” Merlin shrugged.

“So, why didn’t you tell her?”

“It was too dangerous,” Merlin sighed. “And then… and then when she… it was better, that she underestimated me.”

Arthur nodded. “It was too dangerous because if she had told-”

“Uther would have killed me,” Merlin finished.

“And she didn’t tell for the same reason,” Arthur added. “It was easier to betray us then to-”

“-to risk you betraying her,” Merlin concluded.

They sat in silence for a moment.

“Chicken goes in your mouth, Merlin,” Arthur nodded towards the plate, where the bare chicken bone now lay beside a neat pile of meat. “Did no one teach you how to eat as a child? This explains so much.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, but dutifully started eating. Arthur watched Merlin eat in silence for a moment. He took a long drink from his cup, and then set what remained in Merlin’s reach.

“Besides Gaius and Lancelot, did you ever tell anyone about your magic?” Arthur asked, when the silence became awkward.

Merlin shook his head, his mouth full of chicken. 

“And Gwaine’s the only one that figured it out on his own?” Arthur asked.

Merlin quickly swallowed, then reached for the cup and took a sip to help it down. 

“No, I meant - I meant that I never told Gaius or Lancelot either,” Merlin said. “Err… Gaius knew my father, and… I think my mother’s letter to him was fairly… clear, even if she didn’t use the words.  Lancelot saw the spell that I put on his weapon and I was the only one standing when he looked to see who had done it. So…”

“You’ve never actually told anyone,” Arthur concluded, staring at Merlin.

“I told you,” Merlin gave Arthur a flash of a small smile.

Arthur’s heart felt like it was being both weighed down and set free. But before he could voice a thought, Merlin’s grin vanished and he turned concerned eyes towards Arthur.

“How did you know Gwaine-”

“I saw the horses last night,” Arthur replied. “I know that he chose you over Camelot. I had assumed he had known for some time, but-”

“He didn’t!” Merlin said. “You mustn’t punish him - he doesn’t mean it! He didn’t know! Have you done something already?!” Merlin leapt out of his seat, as if to run out the door.  “It’s a misunder-”

“Merlin!” Arthur said, standing as well, on the off chance that he would have to block Merlin’s way or go after him. “Gwaine is fine. I have done nothing to him. He has already explained himself and I have already dealt with the matter of his loyalty.”

“How?” Merlin asked, obviously terrified.

“Are you really so afraid of me?” Arthur asked instead. “All this time - have you been afraid of me all this time?”

“I’m not afraid of you, Arthur,” Merlin said, and he said it with such conviction that Arthur knew that, at the very least, Merlin believed that he was telling the truth. It had been years though, hadn’t it? It had been years for Merlin to convince himself. Arthur knew how easy it was to convince oneself of something - that all magic was evil, that Uther was a great man, that those people in that druid camp deserved to die…

“Let me try to put your mind at ease, Merlin,” Arthur began, speaking slowly and clearly, to try to break through to Merlin’s heart, where the truth always hid. “I am not going to kill you.”

“‘Course not,” Merlin smiled. “You promised Gwen.”

Arthur took a deep breath and tried to smile back. “It has nothing to do with Gwen.”

“Too lazy to break in a new servant?” Merlin joked, but his voice shook, and Arthur knew that he was digging through to the fear - he was digging through to the enemy he had to destroy in order to rescue the stupid boy he had met that day in the training field.

“Do you remember what I told you? About how the hardest path is often the one you should follow?” Arthur asked. Merlin nodded, so Arthur continued. “The hardest path for me to follow - me, personally - would be to have you killed, Merlin. It would destroy me.”

Merlin turned wide-eyes on Arthur.

“Camelot must always come first, Merlin,” Arthur continued, holding Merlin’s gaze. “And so, it does not matter what would be hardest for myself. What matters is what is the correct path for Camelot. The hardest path, for the King of Camelot, would be admit to my father’s mistakes, and undo the work - the damage - he has done over the past… nearly three decades. A lifetime of work, my father’s greatest achievement - that which he claimed made Camelot great. To admit that it has, instead, been poisoning us from the inside… with fear. To uproot that fear, to show the people a different way - to show those who fear magic that it is not all evil and to show those with magic that they can trust their king - it won’t be easy at all. I very much think, I won’t be able to accomplish such a feat without my most trusted adviser by my side.”

Merlin’s tear-filled eyes spilled over, as he nodded, obviously unable to speak. Arthur sighed and reached for him, pulling Merlin into a tight embrace. This seemed to make Merlin cry more rather than less, but Arthur just held tighter, swallowing against the lump in his own throat. 

They broke apart when the door to Arthur’s chambers suddenly opened. They both took a step away from each other while turning towards the door. Merlin frantically scrubbing at his cheeks.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Gwen said softly from the door, a broad smile on her face.

“Guinevere, how was your luncheon?” Arthur asked, hoping she’d ignore the way his voice wavered.

“Oh, who cares,” Gwen replied, striding across the room to them. She pulled Merlin, who had been wiping the tears from his face, into a hug. “You know I love you too, Merlin, right?”

“Yes,” Merlin replied, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you.”

Gwen pulled back and stared into Merlin’s eyes. “We have much to discuss, but it can wait. Gwaine’s in the hallway waiting for you. He says he needs to discuss his new duties with you.”

Merlin nodded, though Arthur knew he was confused and trying to hide it. 

“I’ll uh,” Merlin paused, then turned to Arthur. “Do you need me to attend you this afternoon, Arthur?”

“No, go speak with Gwaine, I’ll see you at supper,” Arthur replied, but then caught Merlin’s sleeve as he passed by to leave. “Wait, Merlin - one last thing - and this is very important.”

“Yes, Arthur?” Merlin said, his eyes wide and face serious.

“Did you wipe your greasy chicken-coated fingers on the back of my shirt when we embraced?” Arthur asked.

Merlin bit his lip. “Yes, Sire.”

“Get me a new shirt, you idiot.”

Merlin laughed,  making his way to the wardrobe. 

Arthur turned to Guinevere, who was still watching them with a huge smile on her face. He pulled her towards him and planted a kiss on her lips. Then he untucked his soiled shirt and pulled it over his head. Gwen racked her eyes over his bare torso and her gaze grew from delighted to hungry. Arthur kissed her again.

“Did you not eat enough at lunch, my dear?” He teased.

“Mm, perhaps not,” Gwen hummed, and pulled him in for another kiss.

“Oy! I’m still in the room!” Merlin exclaimed. Gwen giggled into Arthur’s mouth and Arthur found himself smiling too broadly to continue the kiss.

“My apologies, Merlin,” Arthur said, stepping away from Gwen, and walking towards Merlin. “We didn’t intend for you to feel left out.” 

Merlin flushed and threw Arthur’s shirt at him. “Get dressed, you prat.”

“Go talk with Gwaine,” Arthur ordered gently. “I’ll see you later.”

Merlin smiled and said, “Yes, Sire.” But he did not move away, instead he asked, “Am I really your most trusted adviser?”

Before he knew what he was doing Arthur had reached out and clasped the nape of Merlin’s neck, pulling him close and touching their foreheads together. He stared into Merlin’s blue eyes.

“Don’t be stupid.”

*

Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr, if you'd like to chat. I promise that I'm friendly.


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